Baby of Mine
by Dead-Kenny-Dead
Summary: Stan doesn't know if he can do it all alone. PWP, Implied Stendy and Kybe. Oneshot.


"Daddy, I'm scared."

I guess that the thing about being a parent is that you have superpowers. That is, when it comes to your kid. Usually I'm in a dead sleep by four thirty-six in the morning, but somehow just hearing David's voice over the slow pitter-patter of rain is enough to make me aware. I rub at my eyes, turning over to face the door with my hair sticking out at all ends. "What's up, little man?"

I hear him shuffle in his little footie pajamas that Kyle and Bebe bought for his birthday, his little pastel yellow bunny tucked under his arm while he looks up at me with his mother's eyes. He's nibbling on his lip, shaking like a leaf, tugging at his ear with his free hand and just blinking up at me in a way that only a four-year-old can. "I saw Mommy again."

Instantly I sit up, pulling back the covers and removing myself from my warm little blanket. If it's nightmares again I don't know what to do. I don't think I could handle putting my baby boy through therapy, not after all that's happened. He shuffles even closer, and I extend my arms out to him so that I can lift him up into my arms. "Where did you see Mommy, Davy?"

First he puts his bunny up to my face; it makes sense that I have to give them both a kiss before he'll tell me what's going on. First it's on the bunny's nose, then it's on his little nose as I tuck one arm under him while wrapping the other around his back. I feel his tiny hands digging into my shoulders, his covered feet brushing up against my stomach as he clings to me. "When I was sleeping," he replies, scooting his head under my chin.

"Oh?" I start to walk him around because I know it's comforting to him. "What happened?" I'm almost afraid to ask and bring about crying, but if I don't ask then what kind of a father am I? He gives a sniffle, further nuzzling into my neck.

"She wanted me to tell you that she loved Stan."

While it's kind of weird of my son to dream about Wendy telling him that she loves me, I just chock it up to his imagination. I know he knows my name, so I just sigh and pat his back. "Is that all?"

"No," he says, almost like he's telling another little fib. I raise an eyebrow as we stroll into the kitchen, no lights on except the faint glow of streetlamps from the outdoors. He's fidgeting in my arms as I walk us into the living room, sitting down in my spot on the couch and leaning back so that he's just using my stomach as a giant chair. He tucks his bunny under his chin, looking up at me with wet eyes.

"Davy, you know it's okay to tell me," I urge him, ruffling his black hair with as much affection as I can. Somehow I manage a smile, rubbing my thumb against his cheek because he's starting to cry and somewhere inside me it's tearing me apart. "What else did Mommy say?"

"She said," he began with a little hiccup, "she said that she misses me and that you're gonna see her soon." Instantly I understand why he's upset; he's had this fear for about six months but this is the first time that he's actually dreamed about it. I pat at his back again and he nuzzles up against my bare chest. "I don't wanna lose you too, Daddy!"

"Shh, baby, shh..." I softly coo to him, holding him as close as I can and planting kisses to the top of his head. "I'm not going anywhere. Dad's always gonna be here." Maybe Kenny was right. Maybe I should have David talk to someone about Wendy's death. I've tried my best to not be upset about it, but it's hard when your little one walks in and sees you crying all alone in a bed made for two. It's affected him pretty badly without me trying to pretend that everything's okay; by making sure that everything's as she left it, by withdrawing from most of my social life because I'm just one guy. I'm just Stan Marsh. Even I start to sniffle, bouncing him gently and hushing him as best as I can. "I'm staying right here."

I feel his hand go over my heart as he sniffles, trying his best not to cry. I don't know how long we stay this way, but it's for a good length of time before he finally moves, looking up at me with bright eyes. "You promise you'll stay with me?"

I'm about to make the mistake that every parent makes. I'm going to make my child a promise that's impossible to keep. Sure, by the time it's broken he's gonna be a grown man and he'll understand that people die. Hopefully he'll have his own family by then, and I'll just be an old man who's time has finally come. But I can't predict the future; no one knows it but I'm scared to death that something's gonna happen to me and then he'll just have his grandparents. God knows they're already getting up there in years, so if I do end up joining my wife my son will never be able to forgive me.

All those thoughts race through my head in a microsecond before I answer with truth. "Forever and ever."

For a moment he pouts before pulling himself up and planting a slobbery little boy kiss right between my eyes. He's an affectionate little tyke, I can give him that much as he turns on his side with his bunny snuggled up to his chest. "...does Mommy love me?"

"Of course. She'll never stop loving you." I shift us back up off the couch, standing as I start to walk him to his room because he's starting to drift back into sleep. "Even if she's not here with you, she's always gonna love you. From the top of your head," I say as I kiss his forehead before using my free hand to tickle lightly at his feet, "to the tip of your tippy-toes."

And it's like he was never crying in the first place as I hear him give a little squeak, giggling and curling his toes inside his footie pajamas as I pull back his Spiderman sheets and start to tuck him into bed. He wiggles as I poke his tummy, making us both smile. David gives me an innocent smile, worming into the sheets and covers so that's he's comfortable before puckering up for a goodnight kiss. I pat his head, giving him a peck and standing up.

"Daddy, you forgot about Squishy-Bun."

I turn around to see that his little bunny has been pushed out as far as his little arms can reach, the plush animal staring back at me with lifeless eyes while David looks at me. "You forgot to give Squishy-Bun a kiss." I raise an eyebrow with a smile, leaning back down and staring at his toy. I just inwardly shrug and kiss it on its little felt-covered plastic nose, patting it between its ears while giving a nod. "I'm sorry I forgot about you, Mr. Squishy-Bun. Now both of you," I say, turning and running my hand through my son's hair one last time as he squishes the toy to his chest, "it's time for bed. Sweet dreams, little man."

"Night, Daddy."

It's five fifty-eight by the time I shuffle back into my own covers, staring at the empty space where Wendy should be. I haven't changed the bedding since she passed, nor have I even touched her pillow. The faint smell of her perfume is here, but as with all things that too is starting to fade. Her makeup is still sitting on the end-table, a little blue dress draped against the computer chair to the left that she was going to wear to Bebe and Kyle's wedding. They haven't even made a different date for the wedding yet. Cartman says I'm gonna go crazy by keeping her stuff around, and I thought he was concerned for a moment until he had to insult my dead wife.

I have to remember to thank Kenny again. I don't think I could have handled a night in jail for assault and battery.

I curl up into a little ball, finally taking the courage and grabbing her pillow and holding it against my heart. As soon as the smell of it hits me I'm done for, starting to sob quietly in the pillow because David has to know that everything's alright. Because I have to be tough for appearance sake. Because I don't know how I'm going to get through this without help.

Because I'm just Stan Marsh, and I'm not a superhero.


End file.
